Devil's Own
by Taisi
Summary: Holocaust. The Elric brothers share the same dream- the longing of a place called home, a home they can't let go of. But, through ways they'd never have anticipated, they'll find a way back there from the bloody battlefield of Germany. HIATUS.
1. Part 1

**First ever FMA fic!!--excluding "A Brother's Love", cuz that was just a fluke; I wrote it when I got bored, and it was only after I'd seen like, three episodes. Ehh...well, this is an idea that slapped me in the face one night as I was groped in a futile battle with sleeplessness.**

**Summary: Story of the Holocaust, through an alchemist's eyes. The brothers Elric share the same dream: the longing of a place called home, that only they could know of. But, through ways they'd never have anticipated, they soon will get their wish.**

_**"The night is full of mystery. Even when the moon is brightest, secrets hide everywhere. Then the sun rises and its rays cast so many shadows that the day creates more illusion than all the veiled truth of the night."**_

_**--Demon in My View,**_

_**Amelia Atwater-Rhodes**_

_Part 1:_

_Equivalency_

The man sat at his desk idley, scanning over the papers piled there with little interest. In the desperate struggle that had been a war between worlds, many people had gotten injured, and many things destroyed; so naturally, the duty fell on the military to right it all out and settle any disputes between angry citizens demanding refund, homeless families seeking shelter or food, children who'd lost their parents, impossible amounts of money to repair the damages that had been done to Central and to put out the enormous raging fires, and, of course, the removal of all the dead bodies.

The military men were overworked, underpaid, and dog-tired; this was especially true for the alchemists. People viewed alchemists as not only dogs of the military, but as miracle-workers, people who could right all wrongs and just chose not to. Rumors spread around of the FullMetal Alchemist's breif appearance during the midst of the battle, and his key role in it. Such rumors spread like wildfire, but did nothing to calm the terror and greif that had gripped the once proud nation.

The man lay down his papers, rubbing his eyes with gloved hands; one eye was hidden beneath an eye patch. When he took his hand away, he quickly drew his wrist over his forehead to brush hair away from his face, only for it to fall stubbornly back in place again. Making a mental note to trim his hair, the Flame Alchemist snapped his fingers, igniting the tip of his thumb and index like a cigaratte lighter; he snapped again and the flame doused. Another snap and the fire lit up again. He repeated this several times, trying to take his mind off the shape his home was in.

A woman glanced up from her desk that was pressed against several others in the center of the room. Her blue eyes softened slightly, and she averted her gaze, escaping back to her own list of complaints from the angry people of Central. A slender trendil of smoke drifted upward from the seat across from her, and she blinked at the smoker; Havoc drew a long drag from the cigarette and then rubbed it out on the desktop, looking weary and bored.

"Do we _really _have to do all this?" Fuery asked, scratching Hawkeye's dog. "I mean, Sheska's smart, isn't she? She and the other's at the research department--"

"Are already working their butts off," Breda drawled, leaned back in his chair, hands holding the back of his neck, arms bracing his head so he could rest it back. "Besides, the sooner we get finished with all this, the sooner we can eat."

"And sleep," Farman added with a trace of a smile.

At one time, the man overseeing them all would have uttered a sharp "Shut up!" or "Get back to work", or some other idle threat; but now he only sighed and picked up the first paper in the large pile before him and scanned it: nothing new, just a desperate plea for money and shelter for children and wives.

But it was Breda, still leaning back in his chair, who noticed the tremors first. He let his chair fall back on all four legs, and sat up straighter: "Do you feel that?"

Black Hayate, who'd been lying loyally bewteen Fuery's and Hawkeye's chairs leapt up with something between a whine and growl. Trusting the animals instincts, Riza stood and pulled out her revolver, pointing it reflexively where the noise was coming from; the ground. Mustang walked around his desk, a spark of interest in his eyes, fingers poised to snap if need be.

Blue light shone suddenly in the shape of a transmutation circle; it momentarily blinded them, and they threw their arms over their eyes to sheild them, unable to stop peering at the strange sight. The runes inside the circle shown clearly, and Mustang's eyes widened a fraction of an inch; a nine-point circle. Only one alchemist could have sketched it so precisely, and that was the alchemsit who designed it.

_FullMetal._

The light shown brighter, until it was almost white and painfully pure. It sparked and flared dangerously, growing larger and larger, and the military staff backed up until they were pressed against the walls; the circle took up most of the room but for the four corners. The desks and chairs within it's circumference disinagrated. Hayate barked frantically, until Hawkeye knelt and lay a hand on his head. Breda, Havoc, Fuery, Farman, Hawkeye and Mustang stared as two vague figures appeared in the midst of the light, kneeling in the center of the circle. The light was dimming now, but the runes and circle stayed, scorched black into the ground.

A flash of gold, and then of red.

Edward was seen clearly when the light had gone, head bowed, face shadowed, golden hair hiding his expression. His chest was heaving and falling unsteadily, in desperate wheezes; he gouged his fingers into his arms as he held them to keep himself from shaking, but the effort was futile, as he was trembling badly. Sobs sounded, but not from him; beside him, Alphonse rubbed his eyes with fisted hands, face screwed up in fear, sorrow and rage. Their hair was mused, and scars permeated their flesh, temporary but painful still.

Edward was the first to pull himself together in the few seconds that the squad watched. He stood slowly, weakly, like he'd break if he moved too quickly. His clothes were worn and dirty, one sleeve ripped from the right shoulder down. When he raised his face everyone kind of flinched; it held a weak resistance, a broken defeat that was so unlike the usual vigorous strength the boy would carry himself in, during the days of searching for the Philosopher's Stone. He looked warily around, as though unsure he could trust the area enough for his and his brother's presence, and his eyes fell on the six who watched him.

In an instant, he was running towards them, drawing back his automail arm and hurled it forward, aiming directly at Mustang's stomach. Mustang simply moved his arm over, rather slowly, to block the punch that would once have been too quick to follow, much less evade. Edward showed no sign that he'd realized he'd missed, but kept swinging wildly, crying things under his breath as he did; Mustang let him do it, face impassive as he watched the youth.

Finally the blonde boy crumpled to the ground, letting his face fall into his hands, weak frame racked with silent sobs.

"I-I had...n-no choice...Th-they were _masacred..._I-I didn't...h-have a-alchemy...I c-couldn't help them...I-If I tried, they might've hurt A-Al...I-I...I couldn't...It was..." The boy was flenching his fists now, so hard he drew blood. "I-I..."

Alphonse, tears finally gone, knelt beside his older brother, drawing him closer to him. His gaze traveled up to the others' who were now watching him with as much shock and concern as with Ed. "It was a Holocaust," the boy said, voice hoarse and quiet, from lack of use; he'd either not spoken for a while, or had only spoken in whispers for as long a period. "P-people that _deh Fuhrer _didn't like...were killed...I-It...was worse...than the Ishbalan (?) M-Masacre...B-Brother...c-couldn't help...h-he tried, and they hurt him really bad." This was the fury that had enveloped the boy's eyes. "H-He wouldn't let them t-touch me though...He should've just stayed quiet...All those p-people...we-were just...strewn everywh-where...They wouldn't even get a decent b-burial...It...It's not r-right..." Al was trembling, eyes shimmering as he held back more tears. "B-Brother did what he had to, to save us...He honestly...there was no other way..."

Hawkeyes knelt in front of them, husky at her side. "It's okay, Alphonse," she said in a gentle voice none of them--excluding our favorite General--had heard before. "You're here now, and safe. Winry's coming soon, she'll be here; and so will Pinako Roze, and her son, James. They're all on their way." The men looked at her oddly; no one had called them yet. But at a sharp glare from Mustang, they all saluted, and Farman ran to the phone, hopping over the runes burned into the floor.

Edward, shuddering, just listened as his brother spoke, too tired to care about what he was saying, too tired to understand any of the words anyway. One thing that was said did, however, spark some interest:

_Winry's coming._

-x-x-x-

_"Are you boys sure you have to leave?" a concerned Gracia asked, setting down a potted plant she'd been watering. "You could always stay for a little while longer. Everyone's curious to know about you, Edward."_

_"More curious than they ever have been before they realized I was a military dog from another dimension, right?" Edward said with grim good humor. The brunette sitting beside him smiled at him, navy-blue eyes sparkling._

_"Why, brother," the boy said with mock-offense, "you were famous in our world too, and everyone knew you as a military dog _there, _ only a shorter one_." _Alphonse ducked a punch aimed at the side of his head. "No need to hit me, I'm just making conversation!"_

_"No more conversation-making!" Ed snarled, more playful than angry. Alphonse made a face at him, but said nothing else._

_Gracia watched them with a motherly emotion inside her; she saw Edward as a son, even though, she now realized, he saw her as the wife of his fallen comrade. She'd never seen him so open with anyone before, and saw for a moment the gates over his eyes, the wall seperating everyone from himself, swing open as his eyes fell on the younger boy. When Ed looked back over at the woman, his eyes were more alive than she'd ever seen them. "Anyway; we can't stay in one play too long."_

_Gracia frowned. "What? Why not?"_

_"Uh..." The boy seemed surprised by his own words, like he was so used to saying them they'd come out before he could stop them._

_  
Al intervened. "It's because we're looking for something again. Back in our world, we were looking something very powerful that was rumored to be fake, called the Philosopher's Stone; and now we're looking for something again, this time that's very real."_

_Ed glared at his little brother, who smiled impishly back. "Have you talked enough yet?"_

_"Not yet," Al retorted, then said quickly, "Back home Ed was really really short and everyone said so, and he was so short that--"_

_This time Ed dove on top of him, yelling, "I WAS NOT SHORT! No, shut up--No more, Alphonse, I'm gonna--" The boy he held in his grasp squirmed, crying, "Okay, okay! I'll stop now! I'll stop! Brother, I swear I'll stop!"_

_Ed huffed, turning around and crossing his arms. "Jerk."_

_"Dwarf."_

_"ARGGGGH!!! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"_

_Gracia smiled a little, watching as Alphonse attempted to escape the furious Edward. _This must be the boy Edward would only mention in passing...his little brother.

_"So, anyway, we're gonna head out, okay?" Edward said, standing. Al, freed, danced a few steps to the side to avoid being grabbed again, and picked up two suitcases. "Thanks for letting us stay last night, by the way."_

_"Of course, Edward. You've spoken with Maes?"_

_"Yeah, we've said our goodbyes," Edward nodded, a little put-out. "I don't think he got the gist, though, he told me to pick up some liquor for him on the way back."_

_Alphonse giggled, and Gracia sighed. "Yes. Okay," she said with another smile. "You boys be careful, and make sure that you come see us whenever you're in town."_

_"Yeah, sure will. Hey, have you seen Noah around?" Ed sighed when the woman shook her head. "Okay. Could you tell her we said bye? Thanks."_

_They stepped lightly from the doorway, and as Alphonse turned around from calling prolonged farewells over his shoulder, he bodily ran into a man who'd been waiting right outside. _

_"Oh," the blonde man said in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't see you..." He trailed off, eyes finding Edward's. Edward stiffened. _

_"Mr. Heiderich."_

_"Edward Elric," the man rebuttled, kind of wary, and got right to the point. "Were you involved in my son's death?"_

_"I'm probably the reason he's dead."_

_The man's eyes narrowed, and he whispered, "And you can say that with out shame?"_

_Edward flinched, and bowed his head. But Alphonse wasn't quite so silent. "You shouldn't presume things about an event that you know nothing about," he whispered, almost growling. "From what I gather, your son strapped my brother into a rocket and blasted him into an anonymous white hole in the dimension."_

_The man blinked, at a loss, and Edward stared open-mouthed at his kin. It was one of the first times the brunette had jumped so unhesitantly to his defense while _insulting _the other person._

_"And besides," Alphonse continued, hitching up the brown coat slung over his arm--he'd discarded the red cloak, only for Edward to fold it into one of the suitcases--and tossing his bangs out of his eyes, "it's not like Brother wasn't completely devoted to helping you and your son with all your rocketry stuff. I mean, by the sound of it, he kind of lost enthusiasm when he realized you were only shooting for the moon--" Again a strange curiosity crossed Heiderich's face when the second Elric said like the first had "only for the moon". "--but he still kept on with you because you needed his help."_

_Edward made to shush him, and looked apologetically at his friend's father. "Listen," he started, unsure where to go with his words, voice strong all the same, "we have to go. I'm sorry if you're sore about Alfons. I didn't ask...for any of this. I only wanted to see home again. I'm not ashamed of that."_

_The man still didn't speak, but a tight smile stretched across his lower face. Edward, happily now, bowed quickly. "Thank you, sir. Let's _go, _Al." Before Al could spark anymore resolutions, Edward dragged him down the streets, brushing shoulders with a uniformed official. "Oh, sorry, sir," he muttered._

_"No problem, young man." A golden medal glinted on his jacket, but Edward didn't catch it. Swatstika. _

**I'm not sure about the correct-ness of this first chapter. Sorry. Please review!**


	2. Part 2

**Thanks so much for the reviews, everybuddy!! It means a lot that you like my fic!! -beams- I was hoping I did a good enough job on the first chapter; the first half of which I mused over for what seems like months, though the second half was hurried.**

**Disclaimer: Wait...wait...Nope. Haven't purchased any media rights recently...G'head. Rub it in.**

_**"If everyone fought fire with fire, the world would go up in smoke."**_

_**--A Series of Unfortunate Events, **_

_**Lemony Snicket**_

_Part 2:_

_Returns_

The phone rang at the Rockbell estate just as Pinako fired up her torch. She swore, turning down the blaze a bit, and lifting her steel mask to yell over her shoulder, _"Winry!"_

Thudding footsteps sounded above her head, and an answering, "Yeah, I got it!" The phone's ringing stopped, and Winry's voice was heard, chirping a standard, buisnesslike salutation into the reciever, the faint trace of irritation at being interrupted hidden well.

Pinako set down her torch, though, and lay aside her mask. It was Sunday. Their Automail shop was closed, and no one called in for repairs if they were. And no matter what the urgency, Winry Rockbell never, ever, gave repairs on her one day off, except to one person; but that person was never around to recieve them anymore. This, of course, did nothing to explain the shining crome hidden away in her closet, polished and shone to perfection, as they lay waiting in the dark for the perfect weilder.

The old woman heard Winry's cheer die; the girl's whisper carried clearly to her grandmother's keen ears.

_"What are you saying?"_

And although Pinako couldn't hear whatever response was given, there was a muffled thump and a strangely choked, "...Y...Yes...Yes. Th...thank you."

And before Pinako could move, either to go back to work or to check on her granddaughter, there was a methodical pounding down the stairs, and the door to her workshop flew open, slamming against the wall so hard the plaster on the ceiling cracked.

_"Grandma!" _Winry said breathlessly, clutching her jacket in one hand, her shoes in the other. "We have to go to Central!"

---

Hawkeye pressed a very large mug of hot chocolate into his hands; he flinched wildly, glancing up quickly, and it took her longer to soothe him than it usually did. Even then, he relaxed slowly, tensed muscles easing gradually until he was completely limp again. He sipped at the drink she'd given him; then his eyes widened, and he glugged half of it down, not pausing when the liquid burned scaldingly down his throat.

"Edward," Riza began, frowning, but stopped when he roughly shook Al--who was sleeping next to him, head on Ed's shoulder--awake and gave him the mug and what was left of it's contents. Al, groggy at first, blinked blearily at him, and then felt the steam rising off the cup. He, too, inhaled it and both boys' head whipped around, the expression in their eyes ravenous and depicting only extreme hunger.

Two minutes later found them eating rather slowly from two identical metal trays, both laden to breaking with food. Al had, at first, begun to shovel the food into his mouth as fast as his hands could move, but Edward shook his head, and warned him to eat it slowly. The younger boy grudgingly obliged, mimicking his brother's slow, exaggerated movements.

"What do you think happened to them?" Riza asked Roy quietly, as the two stood watch over the Elrics. "They were far past famished...they were _starving."_

"Yes," Mustang murmured quietly, dark eyes hard and cold as they set upon the golden-haired boy, who'd finished half his food, then pushed the tray away blindly, "They're starving, but they're too tired to eat; probably dead on their feet, but too frightened to sleep, if you don't count the fact that they both passed out, and _stayed _out of it for about two days running." Sparks began forming in Mustang's pockets as he furiously rubbed his fingers against each other.

"Should we...interrogate them?" Farman asked softly, usure whether or not he liked that particular word. Breda's frown tightened, and Havoc muttered something under his breath, rubbing his cigarette out on an ashtray that lay on the table. Feury looked anxiously from one enlisted officer to the next, stroking Hayate absently.

"No," Mustang answered without hesitation. "We should give them time to breathe. First things first, they should see a doctor. They both look a lot thinner than the lost time I saw them; that can't be a sign of good health. Edward was always slender, but he's grown. They're also both covered in scars, some of which might be recent." He turned and beckoned to Farman. "Get me the best doctor in Central; and get him here _now."_

Farman smiled, and saluted. "Right away, sir."

---

Winry stormed into the room, throwing wide open the door. Her frantic eyes swept across the room quickly, noting Mustang's squad, a white-coated man, a brunette collapsed on a couch, eyes half-open, and a blonde boy sitting before the doctor, shirt removed; _her _blonde boy.

She was silent. Alphonse, eyes sliding past where they rested warily on the doctor who examined his kin, saw her before Edward did. He blinked several times, reassesing who she was, before smiling wearily and murmuring, "Brother--guess who."

Edward turned around warily, knuckles white as he gripped the table edge as hard as he could. His golden orbs widened, and he inhaled sharply, tension gone out of him.

_"Winry," _he whispered, as though he'd never before said her name.

Pinako stepped in a few moments later, in time to see her granddaughter throw her beloved carry-case down to the ground without trepidation, and throw herself across the room to where a certain black-clad boy sat, red jacket falling forgotten from his hands to the floor. She threw her arms around his neck, tears streaming shamelessly down her cheeks, as she cried, _"Edward!" _

Unconcious of everyone's gaze on him, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could manage. He was breathing in her unique scent, loving the feel of her hair brushing across his face. He slowly closed his eyes and rested his head against her; for the first time in the few days he'd been back at Central, he fell asleep.

Winry found herself rocking the boy. Although she was standing, and Edward was sitting on the table, leaning heavily against her, she found she was quite easily able to brace his limp form. She held him away for a moment--unable to let go--and wormed up on the table with him. She wrapped her arms back around him, and murmured softly to him even though she knew he couldn't hear. Glancing up through tear-filled eyes, she beckoned to Alphonse, who flocked immediently to the sisterly comfort, settling on her other side so he was leaning against his older brother and the girl that could've been his sister; he was asleep, too, in moments.

As Winry rocked her boys, she glanced over at Mustang, and jerked her head to the side, a silent summon. If anyone thought it strange that the General answered the summons of a nineteen year old girl, no one mentioned it.

"What happened to them?" was her first question. "Are they alright? Why--" here she pushed Edward away from her for just a second, still not letting him go, and gestured at his chest "--is he covered in all these scars? I mean, even back when he was in the military, he _never--"_

"Winry, I assure you," Mustang said in a hushed tone, "that once we get to the bottom of this, we'll alert you. Until then...stay by their side, and never, _ever, _leave them."

Winry's light blue eyes sparkled as she replied, "Never. Never, ever."

---

They slept for a solid thirty hours. Winry never once moved from her human-pillow status, and graciously, gratefully, even, held the two Elric brothers as they slept soundly for the first time in what could've been months. Rose arrived in Central a few hours after Winry, and stroked the boy's hair as they slept, talking in whispers with Winry. She, unlike anyone else, knew better than to offer to relieve her. This was every bit as good for Winry as it was for Edward and Alphonse. Only Rose and Pinako knew of all the sleepless nights Winry had endured; of the tears she tried not to let fall when she picked up a wrench and thought of Edward each time she saw did.

When Edward awoke a full day later, it took him seconds to realize where he was, and who he'd clung to desperately in his sleep. The first thing he met when he blinked awake was a bright smile from Winry. "Hey, Ed," she whispered to him, thumbing at the purple rings under his eyes. "What have you done to yourself this time?"

Edward look far from ready to answer, so the Rockbell continued, "That arm and leg was a _work of art. _I hope your proud of yourself, Edward. This repair is gonna cost you a _fortune."_

Edward blinked several times as Alphonse shifted in his sleep, before his world-weary face lit into a smile that made him appear healthier, and as young as he truely was. "Heh. Just put it on my tab."

Mustang entered the room suddenly, tense body relaxing as he saw Edward awake. "Ah, FullMetal--I guess I can't call you that anymore?"

Edward was silent for a long moment, gauging the expression on his once-upon-a-time superior's face. Several things were weighing against the idea of becoming a military dog again. But Alphonse, blinking doeful eyes at the scene unfolding, nodded twice. Edward glanced next at Winry, who, biting her lip, nodded once. Then he looked back at Mustang, who saw some internal battle he might never be privvy to take place behind fathomless golden eyes, before Edward slouched sideways in an old sarcastic way that Mustang had never known he'd missed.

"I'll need a new pocketwatch."

Relieved as he was to hear that, Mustang's brow furrowed. "Full...Edward, I'll try to make things easier on you, but there's only so much I can do."

Edward, stunned and gratified by this outward display of helpfullness, flapped a hand at the man. "Feh, don't worry about it. You were never so gracious before, but I got by okay."

'Got by okay' kind of undershot the FullMetal Alchemist's acheivements, but no one questioned it. Rather, Mustang took a step to the side, gesturing grandly to the door. "Your public awaits, FullMetal."

Edward visibly paled. "...Can Al come with me?"

"His unenlistment has never stopped him from being a part of military advancements before. Why start now?" The ease that spread out on Ed's face was visibly perceptible, and Al trotted to his side, refreshed and ready--sort of--to go.

---

Apparently, Mustang's squad wasn't going to do the acutal questioning. They, Winry and Pinako were watching, Edward guessed correctly, behind a large mirror behind the interrogator, that probably served also as a one-way window.

"Edward Elric, recently discharged from the military for unknown and personal reasons, and younger brother Alphonse Elric." The strange man shuffled the papers on the table in front of him to keep his hands busy. "Are you ready to being questioning?"

"No," Alphonse said abruptly. "But let's start anyway."

"Good," the man said absently, reaching forward to switch on a lamp that Edward knew was going to be _very _bright; he warned the man off with an infamous FullMetal glare. "Where have you two been the last year; and why have you returned in such conditions?"

Edward smirked, resting on elbow on the table and dropping his chin in his palm. Behind the unseen window, Mustang smiled as he recognized that pose, almost feeling sorry for the interrogator.

_Let the games begin._

**I hope you liked it!! Please review!!**


	3. Part 3

_**I'M SO SORRY I LIED!! I REALLY WAS PLANNING ON UPDATING LAST WEEK, HONEST!! **_**E-Er, but here's the next chapter…Hehehe, enjoy…**

_Part 3:_

_War_

The man laid aside his papers, and rubbed his closed eyes with his thumbs. "Okay. Let me get this straight." He looked up at the two adamant youths in front of him, and knew they wouldn't change their story. "You two were in another world, with people just like the ones who live here?"

"Couldn't they have given us a more unbiased interrogator?" Edward called at the mirror.

"It was more like another dimension," Alphonse said mildly. "The people weren't the same--but they weren't exactly different either. And there was no alchemy over there. The steam engine evolved farther along than the "ancient magics" did."

The interrogator stared at them. They stared back. Edward started to drum on the table with his hands, swaying to his own imaginary beat. Alphonse rolled his eyes, exasperated; Edward was very good with interrogations--he was only acting restless to annoy the man sitting across from them. The blonde boy caught the withering glare sent his way by his little brother, and dropped his hands into his lap.

"Okay, Mr. Blay, was it? I'm really, really trying to be patient here," Edward said. And he really was. "But you're not buying our story--that's obvious. If you really don't take us at our word, there's no point to this, is there?"

Mr. Blay sighed, and tried to orient himself. "Okay, I'll try to be more open-minded," he said humbly, knowing his was not the greater intelligence in the room. "But please, try to explain yourself better."

"Deal."

"Now...first off, tell me why you were..."

"Half-dead?"

"Er, yes."

The sarcastic ease in the room evaporated. Almost unconsciously, Alphonse shifted his chair over so his arm was touching his brother's. Edward's eyes harded, as he decided how much to tell the man.

"Tell me everything, Edward," Mr. Blay said in a quieter voice. "Nothing can hurt you here."

The FullMetal Alchemist barked a harsh laugh. "OH, I wish you knew how wrong you are, Mr. Blay, really. No matter where we go, someone or something is ready to annihilate us."

"Interesting choice of words," the interrogator said, scribbling something down on his pad of paper.

"Some people can't be considered human," the eldest Elric spat. "Some people are lower than worms. Some people have done such horrible things, it makes me wonder why they weren't killed as infants."

Alphonse spoke now, voice barely above a whisper. "People of different races…people with different religions…different backgrounds…should be given the same respect as any…"

"Damn self-righteous atheist bastards," Edward snarled. "They should die in their own gas chambers, at the hands of the martyred families whose sons and daughters they tortured. I'd love to see their pain. I'd love to watch them writhe and scream, like the _inferior races _did. I'd want to watch them draw in their last, burning breath—and then fall."

Mr. Blay looked to Alphonse for his reaction, feeling that the brunette was the more mildly-mannered of the two, but the second-born was nodding his head in agreement; face a chiseled mask of hate. Sensing the real story coming on, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a tape recorder, setting it and then placing it slowly on the table separating him from the brothers Elric.

"Tell me everything."

---

_Edward pulled her out of the man's grasp, positioning himself immediately between the two. Alphonse took her by the arm—unsure of whom she was but following his brother's lead anyway—and she paused, looking at him with curious eyes. Being a Roma, she was used to such violent treatment; what was strange was that she had someone to help her out of it. It was by mere chance that Edward happened to be nearby anyway, and had spotted her. She had no idea who his friend was; he seemed indistinctly familiar, his memory in her mind like a heat haze; there in her peripheral vision, but retreading when she tried to pin it down. When he gripped her wrist, she was immediately privy to all his thoughts—all his memories. _

_The first thing she felt was his affection and love for Edward; she had never seen a relationship so fierce. Before she could think too deeply on that, which would probably brought on some uncomfortable worst-case scenarios, she felt the blood link between them; she felt the same horror she did in Edward's mind, the same shattered pride, soul-deep fear; she could hear the terrified screams echoing through a concrete room, could see the little blonde boy dragging himself through his and his brother's blood—watched him desperately knock over a suit of armor to trace a bloody circle into the helm._

_And then she realized she had just met Edward's precious, biological brother Alphonse._

"_It's okay, Miss Noah," he said soothingly, pulling her away a few steps from the fight. Then he turned and yelled, "BROTHER! Don't start confrontations with armed officers in the general public! A bystander could get hurt!"_

_Edward glared at Alphonse over his shoulder. "Gee, Al, THANKS. I would definitely put our audience in harm's way!"_

_Noah realized without too much surprise the large crowd of people watching them. Most of the young girls were eyeing Edward appreciatively; the majority of the men were shaking their heads, scowling at the scene—and the scowls were not directed at the Nazis—while the few who weren't merely ducked their heads; the children in the crowd were confused, and said so; mothers, not wanting to start any trouble by voicing the flaws of the military at this soon-to-be-hostile area, led them away._

_Edward was currently in a heated argument with Noah's would-be kidnapper, ignoring the way the latter gripped his gun. "…and I don't care what your damn military official says, you don't go grabbing girls off the street! Are you up here at all?!" He knocked against his skull with his left fist. Noah felt Al's sudden sadness, and wondered why aloud._

"_Brother's right handed," came the unhesitant reply._

"_Right-handed?" What did that…?_

_Ah. Yes; the 'alchemic rebound'. Edward lost his limbs—he still has artificial ones—but apparently Alphonse's body was restored completely. Noah eyed Edward's artificial limb—it seemed a lot more efficient than it had been. A lot of things had changed after Edward's return from his own world._

_She would have questioned him further, but suddenly about eight more Nazis were converging upon the street they'd chosen for their little revolution. Al moaned, and called, "Brotherrrrrr!"_

"_Yeah, I hear 'em," Edward replied, eyes still locked on the man in front of him, sharp and unblinking. If he turned his back to him now, there was no doubt in Edward's mind that he'd be shot. Noah brought her hands to her lips and clasped them, biting back the natural response to this disaster, which was to scream and run away; but she was going to leave Edward and Alphonse to sort out a mess that was originally hers._

_They might actually have gotten away, after having taken a few of the Nazis down—but as luck would have it, the men were not interested in a fair fight; they immediately raised their rifles and took a deadly accurate aim. Edward slowly slid upward from his predatory crouch and Alphonse lowered his fists. Edward brought his gloved hands together in a clap, and bared his teeth in a silent snarl._

"_What the hell is your problem?"_

_The soldiers were shocked by his brazen boldness, but one said in a practiced tone, "She's a gypsy—she belongs in Auschwitz."_

_Noah gasped, hands sliding up an inch or two more to cover her mouth. "Edward, don't let them take me there," she whispered shrilly. Alphonse frowned, puzzled, but took their twin expressions of horror and—in Edward's case—rage to mean that 'Auschwitz' was a bad place._

_One of the Nazis—obviously expecting some cooperation—reached for Noah, but Alphonse shoved his arm away, yelling, "Don't touch her!"_

_As soon as he touched the man, one of the man's comrades backhanded him. This fueled Edward's anger to an insanely unstable point. He leapt forward and gripped the imposing wrist, clenching it so hard in his right hand that it cracked, splintered and broke in a matter of seconds. Shards of bone poked through his skin, staining Edward's white gloves red with blood. He hissed in disgust—and not of the blood—and shoved the man away. Alphonse, pressing the back of his wrist to his bruised cheek, muttered, "Brother, I really wish you wouldn't overreact to everything. You're so dramatic."_

_Edward chose to ignore that charming sentiment. "Any of you touch him again," he warned severely, head bowed so he had to glare up at them through his brow, "and I'll—"_

"_We'll have to take these two into custody," a higher-ranked official who'd just arrived on the scene told his men, looking at Noah and Alphonse without emotion. (Edward was blocked from sight by the dude he'd just detained.) "They look strong enough; they'll do well in Auschwitz." ((Er, the reason I'm using Auschwitz is 'cause I had to research it for a paper in school; I researched 'medical experiments'. I know sounds promising, right??))_

" _NO!" Edward managed to shove his way past the angry men surrounding him to where his brother was straining away from the iron-firm grip of a larger soldier. "Let go of him, you bastard!"_

"_Edward!" Noah screamed, "Behind you!"_

_A blunt force hit the nape of his neck, sending him to his knees. He gasped, bringing a shaky hand up to the numb skin, clinging desperately to his consciousness. Al was screaming, "BROTHER!" over and over again, and Noah was thrashing desperately to no avail._

"_That blow should have knocked him out."_

"_He's certainly a strong one."_

"_Should we take him as well?"_

"_He seems to be related to the other boy; we shouldn't split up kin. We'll take them both."_

"_Right away, sir."_

_Edward raised his face enough to glare once more at the commanding officer. Said officer knelt and peered into his golden eyes; light from the sun caught in them and made them sparkle—this effect might have been charming if Edward wasn't attempting a telekinetic death-glare. The man's smirk faded, and his smug superiority melted away. "Such strange eyes," he muttered, puzzlement taking place of any hostile emotion on his face. _

_Had Edward been in his right state, he would have noted the black hair, black eyes and gratingly superior stature at once and made the immediate connection from this German to a man he remember constantly from a world he could call his own._

_And as he was thrown into the back of a cart with Alphonse, Noah and several other random victims of the Nazi's purifying attempt, feeling Alphonse's hands fluttering nervously over his neck, while Noah's cooler, more confident ones brushed sweaty hair back from his face, his last coherent thought was a simple, two-syllable one:_

_Mustang?_

**Oy. It's 11 o'clock, the sky is dark, this heat should be illegal, and I have finished this chapter. Yes, yes. No applause, please. –collapses, wheezing—I'll..I'll just die here….**


	4. Part 4

**I'm so sorry it took me so long! I had to write my new fics before I lost the motivation for them—and I can't stand having a story on my computer and not posting it.**

**Thank you for your patience! And I apologize for forgetting a quote for the last chapter. -**.**- There's a lot for me to keep track of!**

_**The most successful people are those who are good at Plan B.**_

_**-James Yorke**_

_Part 4:_

_Prisoners_

_Their wrists were tied together by a long length of rope, and they were forced to walk down the middle of the street, escorted by Nazis. Most of them were Roma; all of them were too frightened to rebel—they all obediently shuffled without dignity down the road, amidst the sneers and jeering of the crowd on the sidewalks pressing gradually closer and closer. The Nazis pretended not to see; they ignored the rotten fruit being thrown at the prisoners, and this only urged the people on. _

_All the prisoners were afraid; they didn't fight._

_Excluding one._

"_Let us go, damn it!" he yelled, outraged, as he strained against his bonds. He had already broken out of his ropes, and then his chains ((Thank you, Winry. Your Automail is kick-ass—but then, so is its wielder.)), so now two soldiers marched on either side of him, holding a gun to each side of his head. This had unfazed him, but Alphonse had pleaded with him not to do anything rash; he didn't want to risk Edward getting shot._

_As it was, one of the soldiers decided to crack Noah with the butt of his gun for stumbling slightly; the girl winced, but didn't make a sound. Edward, however, grew even more irate, and hissed, "Don't touch her, you bastard."_

_The Nazi next to him ground the gun into his temple, sneering, "And what do you intend to do about it?"_

_Edward moved quickly; his head snapped around and he dug his teeth into the man's hand, much like a maddened wild animal, complete with the feral snarl. Said man cried out, dropping his gun and trying to wrench his hand away. Some of the spectators quieted, while some nodded appreciatively ((the few who didn't see eye-to-eye with Hitler)), and still others rushed into the street at the soldier's aid. Edward swiftly elbowed the second soldier in the gut with his Automail elbow, and then lunged forward, low and quick. _

_When the General moved in, fighting his way through the throng, the first thing he saw was Edward get socked in the stomach. The boy gritted his teeth, then brought his knee up sharply—both arms being held back, tight enough to dislocate both his shoulders ((well, except one, but the Nazis didn't know that))—high enough to nail his assailant in the chin. Alphonse stood in front of Noah, fists raised just as easily—instinctively, reflexively—as his brother's; his navy-blue eyes flashed in his kin's direction, and then returned to the men in front of him, a silent challenge. ('Take one step forward. Just one.')_

_Mustang made no move to stop the fighting. He was awed at the blonde boy's vitality, his spirit; and he knew it was his soldiers that started this, however they did. So he crossed his arms, shifted his weight, and watched, the scowl on his face covering his interest—who would win?_

_And then one of the Nazis pulled out a gun. Mustang's arms unfolded and fell to his sides, fists clenched as he deliberated; was the soldier bluffing, or would he shoot? He took one look at the man, recognized him as a brutal and cruel recruit, and immediately made to walk forward—until he saw the golden-eyed boy's smirk._

"You think a gun can stop me?" he whispered.

---

Blay shut the tape recorder off. Edward had fallen asleep leaning against his brother, and Alphonse had folded his arms on the table, chin resting on his sleeves, eyelids drooping dangerously.

Blay opened the door of the interrogation room—and about eight people who had been pressed to it, listening intently, nearly fell inside. "Clear off, clear off," the interrogator said, waving them away. "The boys are tired."

Winry had fallen asleep as well, her anxiety and concern for Ed and Al turning into complete exhaustion; Rose and Pinako had led her off to bed, Rose holding her little boy close to her. Mustang's squad left at the expression on Mr. Blay's face, casting curious and worried glances over their shoulders. Only Mustang remained, and Blay didn't try to argue with him when he stepped into the dimly lit room.

"How are they doing?" Mustang asked him quietly, out of Al's earshot, standing with Blay just inside the door.

"They're tired," the man whispered back. "This is taking an emotional toll as well as a physical one."

"You've been going easy with the questioning. You let them talk, move at their own pace. Thank you," the dark-haired man said appreciatively. He stopped next to Edward's chair, and hesitated for a moment. Then he bent and gently gathered the slumbering blonde in his arms. Alphonse glanced up when he felt the weight against his arm ease; he blinked up at him dolefully, then stood, ambling to his side. Mustang expected him to lead the way to the door, but he stood obediently at the man's side, with a strangely defeated look on his face.

"Let's go, Al," Mustang said after a moment of waiting.

"Yessir."

Mustang led the way down the hall to the room the boys had for the next week or so at HQ. Edward slept fitfully in his hold, tense, shaking and restless; Mustang was sincerely amazed at how light he was—he didn't weight much at all.

"Alphonse?"

"Yessir?"

Mustang frowned; the few words that Alphonse said to anyone other than Edward were bleak and respectful. He let it go for the moment, though. "I know you're sick of questions, but would you do something for me?"

Alphonse blinked up at him, with a little honest curiosity. "Eh? What?...Sir?"

"Well, first of all, as much as I like to be idolized and respected, and don't get it much from your brother; so stop calling me sir." When Al flinched like he was being scolded; but eased when he received a grin. "And the other thing—make sure your brother gets some rest for me, okay?"

Al's gaze found his sleeping brother. He smiled softly.

"Sure; no problem, si…Mustang.."

**Extremely short, and more of a filler. This is NOT yaoi; it's EdWin, okay? Jeez. Please review!**


	5. Part 5

**Sorry I took so long to update again!! I'm obsessed with my Naruto fanfics, and I let this one slide—it shan't happen again, promise!! Feel free to PM me and tell me to hurry the hell up and update; really, that would actually help. **

**Ahh, yes—I'm trying to make this a more angsty chapter. XDD I don't know, its just been lacking angst lately. NO YAOI.**

**When you see this ****: I took a line from Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment. XDD Great book. Really fast-paced, easy-to-read 'n' stuff….**

**Quote::.**

**-Standard disclaimer applies-**

_Part 5:_

_Rest_

"_Listen, Edward, I'm not your enemy here."_

"_Not my enemy? _Not my enemy_? You freaking dragged me and my brother to a damn camp where you randomly gas people when it's convenient for you, and then took Noah away! On top of that, you perform insane medical tests on people, just to see what happens! All because they're an 'inferior race'?! You people are—"_

"'_They're'?"_

"…_What?"_

"_You said 'they're'. As in, the others—and not you."_

"…_What the _hell _does that have to do with _any_thing?"_

"_Edward…I can tell you and your brother don't belong with these people."_

"…_What's your point, _Mustang."

"_If you cooperate, I can get you both out of here."_

"…_What about Noah?"_

"_She's a Gypsy. She stays."_

"_Feh. Get over yourself, you bastard."_

"_STOP IT, Edward!"_

"_Brother, are you alright?!"_

"…_Fine. I'm _fine, _Al, really; help me up."_

"_Edward…I didn't mean—"_

"_Save it."_

"…_Edward, you're either with the Nazis—the superior peoples—or with the lower, homely urchins who have no place in society. Choose, Edward; the winning or the losing team?"_

"…_There's something you don't seem to understand, Mustang. A team is made up of individual members. It's all about the people on your team—_that's _what decides who wins and who loses in the end. Now chain us back up—the damn line's moving again, and I don't want you to put your precious job in jeopardy."_

"…_What about you, Alphonse?"_

"_I stay with Brother. Always, with Brother."_

"…_Very well."_

_---_

Edward blinked his eyes open. Morning light streamed into the room through the open window, landing in shafts of brightness over the bed, and thus, his face. He narrowed his eyes against the glare and slowly pushed himself into a rumpled but technically upright position. He blinked, frowning in general early morning incoherence, and his eyes strayed to his little brother's bed; empty. It took a few seconds of panic for him to remember that the people here would fight _for _Al and not against him.

After a few minutes of convincing himself, he crawled out of bed—finding himself still in the clothes he wore yesterday; he accepted that with a shrug and quickly pulled a brush through his hair, and, after setting the brush aside, his fingers started moving to braid his hair before he realized what he was doing. He stopped, staring at himself in the mirror; two wide, gold eyes stared back. In Germany…he wore his hair in a ponytail, kind of as a last respect to Amestris; like a farewell token, a bode of remembrance. Only because he never thought he'd see home, ever again.

He hesitated a second longer, then smiled to himself and finished braiding. He went to the door, then paused; looked down at his crumpled clothing. He frowned again: if he was going to return to the old ways, he might as well do it thoroughly; he turned to the boxes of old things Pinako had brought them from the Rockbell estate.

"Ha!" he said triumphantly, pulling out the familiar black clothing. The pants, shirt and over-shirt and big brown belt had always been a bit on the big side…Maybe….He hurriedly got undressed and then pulled the outfit on slowly, a wave of nostalgia rushing over him. Surprisingly, they were a perfect fit; he grinned slightly, and rooted around for the platform boots next.

On his way out of the room, he snatched his red cloak from Alphonse's bed where the latter had left it, and, pulling it on, he allowed himself a very small smile.

---

He sighed, staring out over the water. In just a few hours, the Elrics would be told to reenter that small interrogation room, dimly lit rather than blindingly bright because Edward would not allow the lamp to be turned on; this made his hard for the people behind the one-way window to see clearly, so they would usually drift away—Mustang, his squad, the Rockbells, and Roze and her son were the ones who stayed vigilant. They would strain their eyes through the dark room in hopes of catching a glimpse of one of the brothers' expressions; despite their skill and experience, each had a way of letting known their emotions to ones who really knew them, who really watched—whether they liked it or not, a single involuntary flash of the eye, or movement of the hand gave away everything they were thinking to someone watching who really cared.

He hated their going through this: he knew, Edward having served under him, how much the elder brother hated being confined, lectured, wrung dry—he knew Edward gave detailed, and yet somehow vague information, always leaving something only he and Al knew, to stay a step ahead; he remembered taking some of Ed's notes once, and spending hours trying to decipher his code, all in vain effort.

Edwards return hadn't been what they'd been expecting; they had spent the long days at HQ talking conversationally as they worked about the glorious entrance the FullMetal Alchemist might make if he were to come back. Seeing him and his brother both half-dead—dehydrated, starved, malnourished—clothing frayed and worn, torn in several places, revealing pale, scarred skin, vandalizing the once blemishless flesh…it made them all furious for one thing.

And Mustang himself couldn't stop thinking about Edward's first days in the military after taking the assessment: even _before _he'd actually joined, he'd had to deal with the train incident, and delivering a baby. And then a little girl who'd become as dear to him as a baby sister, tragically alerted and then destroyed—rushing to save his childhood friend from a serial killer, having solved the puzzle before anyone else, and nearly being killed in his attempt.

The boy had openly cried then, only for Alphonse; he'd broken down into sobs, reaching for his brother's comfort with a hand no one could see. Al must have, though, because he'd soothed him with placating words at once, calming him down with an instinctive ease. Edward trailed close behind Al when they walked out of Barry's butcher shop; he didn't make eye contact with Mustang or his squad, didn't even say a word to Winry. Just followed closely behind his brother, and sat beside him when the attached soul found a doorstep father away from the din where his older brother could slowly ease into relaxation. He spoke very mature words, then; _"…We'll just have to hope our powers are good enough for us to rise above our own limits." _He choked his weakness out through strangled sobs. Afterwards, in Mustang's office, the elder Military dog had tried taunting the other into another argument—a heated shouting match, a yelling debate; anything was better than the soulless, tearless look the boy had had on his face.

Maes had been furious—angry—protectively, defensively so—barking orders and demanding compliance. Hawkeye had been more uptight than usual, and had put a blanket around Winry, settled her hands on the younger blonde's shoulders. Winry had tears streaming down her face; and it was then, so early on, that Mustang realized how close the three children were. It wasn't just Ed and Al, it was Winry too. They both depended on her, for more than Automail repairs; hers was a home they could temporarily retreat to, for home-cooked meals, quiet, nostalgic evenings—they could talk to her, live to protect her, strain on in life even if they lost everything else to fight for _her_; which they did. They lost it all…

…and yet never backed down once. He'd never heard Edward say, "I quit, I give up!" He'd never heard Alphonse belittle his older brother in any way other than teasing. They had never given up on each other, and when one fell, the other would stop and turn around, offering a hand to help them up again. Theirs was a bond that would not—more so, could not—be broken.

Mustang sighed again, and then stood, turning away from the fountain to reenter HQ—but froze. Coming out, walking slowly as his gaze shifted, looking for his brother and Winry, strode the FullMetal Alchemist; one of his hands was in one of his pockets, the silver of the chain of the pocket watch glinting in the shafts of sunlight. The hand that wasn't tucked into a pocket was at his side, gloved; his hair was pulled back in a braid that swayed to the opposite direction of each step he took with his right or left leg.

He looked much, much better than he had during the war between worlds, and much better than a few days previous: his face held no suspicion or wary alarm—just an innocent, open, slightly curious, wondering, wandering gaze; so much describing his own self. The boy frowned, seeing the courtyard empty, when he spotted Mustang.

Mustang was slightly taken aback by the lithe sprint the golden-eyed boy executed across the grounds to stop abruptly in front of the General. "Well?" he demanded, grinning. "How do you like my"—he put unnecessary emphasis on the last word—" _apparel?" _He held out his arms, showing off the perfect-fitting attire.

Mustang hid his surprise with a smirk. "Looks great, Ed, you should've tried that look a long time ago." Edward scowled, and dropped his arms. Mustang continued, "Gee, FullMetal, where's your sense of responsibility? You should be looking for your brother right now, not showing off your outfit."

Edward clenched his fists, and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a call from the stone steps of the entrance of HQ. "Broooother! C'mon, we've all been looking for you! It's time for our condemned questioning!"

Mustang chuckled at the dubbed name for Mr. Blay's interrogations, and watched Ed go limp, giving up on his side of the argument with the excuse "It's too early for this."

And after a moment, he followed watching Al berate Edward and Ed walk silently, half-asleep, not listening to a single word.

_Insignificant humans indeed, FullMetal._

**I'm well aware of the unsatisfying length!! DON'T TELL ME IT'S SHORT!! –sobs-**

**I hope you enjoyed anyway! This **_**was **_**a filler, more of a musings column for me… XDD Review, and please no flames!!**


	6. Part 6

**I'm so sorry for how long this took; I got busy with other stuffses, and...well, I'm writing it now, yeah? Thank you for your patience! All of the disclaimers apply.**

_**"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."**_

_**--Martin Luther King, Jr.**_

_Part 6:_

_Test Subject_

He asked Edward to record all he knew of the "concentration camps" so he and his squad could better understand the conditions...but Edward had cut him off mid-sentence saying with a casual smile, "I know you're curious. Don't worry about it; it all seems like a bad dream now, anyway. I'll ring it up for ya in a little while, alright?" And he'd turned away quickly and left the room; Mustang frowned--why couldn't Elric look him in the eyes anymore?

He dwelled on that for awhile, then sighed and turned to his paperwork. There was simply too much for one lazy Flame Alchemist to do; so he opened his mouth but his suggestion was shot down immediately by Hawkeye, who sat with Breda, Falman, Fuery and Havoc at their desks, before he could voice it: "Do your homework, sir."

---

Edward sighed, stretched and picked up his pen. Alphonse, lying sleepily on his bed, yawned widely and sat up so he could peer at whatever it was his older brother was doing. "What are you writing?"

Edward flinched wildly and the pen clattered to the floor, rolling under the desk. Grumbling he got to his knees and fished it out again; "Nothin', Al, go back to sleep." But Alphonse wrinkled his nose and scooted to the edge of the bed so he was sitting at Edward's side, watching him scrawl with surprisingly legible handwriting:

FullMetal Alchemist, Edward Elric

Dated Report

"Concentration Camps"

Medical Experimentation

Just as he finished underlining it, Alphonse whispered, "Why are you writing something like that, brother?"

Edward seemed to deflate. "The General wants to know what went on. I don't know much about it except for whatever those whacky doctors did, remem..." He trailed off, looking sick. Alphonse shuddered, pale. "I'm sorry, Al, I didn't mean--"

"Eh? Oh...No, it's alright. That _was _a close call though," Alphonse whispered trying to smile.

Edward, however, frowned. "Nothing to joke about," he muttered. "They could've...they could've _killed _you, Al."

"And you decided to do the noble thing and take my place," Alphonse said sarcastically. "I hate it when you do that, Ed!"

"Better me than you," Edward said resignedly, beginning to write:

_The doctors seperated each trainload of people: men from woman and children, young and healthy from frail and old. The elderly were gassed, their bodies burned. In Poland, at a camp called Auschwitz, there was a doctor named Joseph Mengele; known as the angel of death, he directed a long period of medical experiments on his victims. They_

He dropped his pen abruptly, this time on purpose. "This is harder than I thought," Edward said softly.

Alphonse said nothing for a long time, laying back down in bed, turning his back to the light of the lamp Edward had on. After a few moments of silence, broken only by the scratching of pen on paper, he said clearly, "You're wrong, you know."

"About what this time?" the golden-eyed youth asked distractedly.

"What you said before. I'd rather die than watch you die again, brother."

"Don't ever say that again, Alphonse. I mean it." The chair creaked and Alphonse could clearly tell that Edward had turned to face him, even though he himself faced the wall. "I'm going to keep you alive. I don't care what I have to do, I will _not _let anyone hurt you again." Alphonse said nothing, though his eyes suddenly burned. There was a few more silent seconds, before Edward shut off the lamp; Alphonse listened as he climbed into his bed across the room and sighed soundlessly, wiping his eyes on his pillow.

"But don't you realize, brother?" he asked the ceiling when he was sure his kin was asleep. "Even if you saved me from pain at the cost of your life, it wouldn't save me from death--I'd die soon, if you ever really left us...Before, before I followed you to Germany after that huge war, I was able to keep going because I knew that if you had simply 'dissapeared' then you couldn't have been dead--the only way I'd ever have accepted it was if they had shown me your body. Even then, I might not really have grasped it. But...really, if you were to die, brother...then...I wouldn't have anything to live for anymore. I need you, Ed, and you can't seem to understand that you're more useful when you're _alive."_

Across the room, to brilliant gold eyes opened slowly, shimmering even though there was no light.

---

_"Hey, Ed," an middle-aged man called from where he sat against the wooden wall. "Good to see you again!" There was a bigger meaning to his words, one that he didn't have to say aloud; 'I'm so glad you're still alive'. Edward, however, was in no mood whatsoever for exchanging pleasantries._

_"Where's Al?!" he shouted at once, tone of voice bringing the general to his feet. _

_"Excuse me?"_

_"You heard what I said, you bastard!" The boy's usually direct and guarded eyes were wild and uncontained; still flashing full of intelligence, but this time also with malice. "Where the hell have you taken my little brother?!"_

_Edward's anger was a little cooled when the dark-haired man's eyes widened in alarm. "You mean he isn't with you?" There was an urgency in his voice, encouraging Edward's hysteria to calm._

_"Well if he _were, _don't you think he'd be here?" Edward swept an arm out to the side of him where Alphonse would have been standing; nothing but empty air._

_"Come on," the soldier said, turning away and marching through the camp, leaving Edward to hurry after him unhesitantly. Over the few weeks he and Al had been at Auschwitz, they'd come to a mutual agreement with the man. He brought them food, usually his part of his own rations, and they ate it quickly and nothing was said about it. Of course, if any of the other prisoners were to find out about that, Ed and Al would probably have been smothered in their sleep--what little they got--so it was done in a hush-hush fashion. Mustang knew immediately that both Elrics were uncomfortable with special treatment, but knew also they had to survive; natural selfishness--all humans had it--won out over the need for a clear conscience._

_"Where are we going?" Edward panted, struggling to keep up with the soldier's long strides; that in itself spelled a lot out for the black-haired man that he might not have percieved from Edward's guarded character. Normally, both Elrics paced themselves quite well, instinctively matching their strides with Mustang's or anyone's in their company. That Edward was falling behind spoke of physical exhaustion and weariness he'd never admit even under torture..._

_When he'd been tied to the post, subject to no food or water for three days, and the occasional beating from a passing soldier who had nothing better to do, Mustang was sure Alphonse was going to lose it. It seemed that for the seventy-two hours Edward was tied there, Mustang had had to keep a firm--very firm; that kid was strong, dammit--grip on Alphonse to make sure he didn't do something foolish. Once, Alphonse broke free when Roy's grip had slackened, and rushed up to where his brother was, gripping his arm and demanding in a scarily calm voice, eyes all seriousness, if his brother was alright. _

_And Edward looked a vaguely surprised to see Al there; then he smiled. "Of course I am, Al. If bread and water can't break me, what's nothing gonna do?" Roy, who'd rushed up to evacuate Al before anyone other than prisoners noticed, had been shocked at the words; they weren't hollow, were only sincere--confident, reassuring, determined. He kept smiling at his little brother, whose own small grin formed. Roy allowed them a moment, during which Al rested his forehead on Edward's shoulder, and Edward leaned his head to the side so it was resting on Al's, and then yanked Alphonse away--soldiers were coming. And Edward had glanced up, when his little brother had been turned away, and a surprisingly ferocious glare crashed into Mustang's weaker gaze; they were full of a feirce care for the brunet Mustang had been gripping by the arm, a clear warning, an honest threat: the boy, even with his arms tied around behind him (both Mustang and Al knew, as well as Edward did, that Edward could have broken free at any given moment, but chose not to; it wouldn't do for the soldiers to know of their whole strength--not yet), appeared almost maternal, like a mother bear protecting her cub, and not in the least bit broken._

_And now, here they were, Mustang stopping every few yards to wait for Edward, who was jogging somewhat slower. Finally, Edward shouted, "GET THE FUCK TO WHEREVER THE HELL AL IS! I'LL CATCH UP! GODS, JUST HURRY!"_

_Mustang stared at him for a moment, and in any other circumstances might have nodded and left him, but instead raced back to the gasping blond and scooped him up quickly before turning and racing back to the medical wing. Silence reigned, broken only by Mustang's harsh breathing, and the man thought that he might not get an argument out of the boy cradled against him; until, "WHAT THE HELL?!" He struggled to free himself, and Mustang snapped, "This is much more efficiant than your pathetic pace, Edward! Besides, who's Al going to want to see more, me or you?"_

_There was a quick silence: then, "Heh, you're right," in as insolent a tone he could manage. If any prisoners thought it was strange to see an officer carrying a semi-resistant prisoner at a run to the medical ward, none of them said a word; not that Mustang would have stopped for them if they had._

_"Why are we here?" Ed asked suddenly, when Mustang let him jump down._

_"...The doctors here often do experimentations on healthy subjects." Mustang wouldn't meet the furious golden glare he could tell was being sent his way. "It's my bet that they chose Alphonse rather than you because you were at the post for a few days."_

_"AL'S GONNA BE _EXPERIMENTED _ON?!" Edward screamed, looking somewhat insane. He turned to rush inside, but Mustang caught him by the shoulder, drawing him back. _

_"If you storm in there, they'll see you're healthy, too, and you'll wind up just like Alphonse!"_

_"I don't care! What is _with _all of you people?! It's both of us or neither, I want the same fate as my little brother! If anything happens to him and not me...do you think I could live with that?!...It was hard enough, before...I...I won't...I WON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN!" The boy was thrashing desperately to escape the man's hold, trying to claw his way into the room few would be willing to enter. "AL!"_

_"Edward," Mustang said quietly, "I need you to wait out here, alright? I'll get Alphonse."_

_"Not a chance!" Edward snarled, "I-!"_

_"You need to learn to trust adults sometimes, Edward," the obsidian-eyed officer cut him off harshly, "you need to remember you're still just a child."_

_Something flashed behind those golden eyes; and then Edward muttered, "I see where that got me last time." Nevertheless, he stopped fighting and sank down to his knees, before sitting tailor-style directly in front of the door. "You have one minute. If you're not back here in _one minute _with Alphonse_, _I'm coming in after you and kicking ass."_

_Mustang nodded once, before disappearing inside. Edward brought his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees, counting quickly to sixty in his head. _

_...56..._

_What if he doesn't make it in time?_

_...57..._

_What if Mustang doesn't make it in time?_

_...58..._

_...What if Al..._

_...59..._

---

Edward slammed his fists down on the table, standing up quickly, chair falling over backwards. "I'm done!" he shouted, making his way quickly to the door. "So damn pointless, it doesn't make any sense at all to be doing this." He threw the heavy door open wide--the lock was no match for FullMetal--and swept down the hall, red coat billowing out behind him.

Mr. Blay steepled his fingers, remaining calm as the door slammed shut again. "Care to comment on your brother's behavior?"

Alphonse blinked a little sadly at him, somehow managing to look like a kicked puppy. "Isn't it obvious? He feels guilty about it all." The brunet stood with a little more grace and muttered, "Sorry, I guess we're done for the day," and then disappeared out of the room after his brother.

Mr. Blay watched him go, reaching out and slowly snapping the tape recorder off. "I guess we are," he said quietly.

Al caught up with Edward when the blond reached their bedroom door. "Brother--"

"It's fine, Al."

"But, Brother--"

"I _said _it's--"

"_NO, IT'S, NOT." _Al grabbed the gloved hand that was fumbling with the key in the lock and yanked it away from the door. "You can't keep doing this, Ed. You don't eat, or sleep, and now you're not even cooperating with the interrogator." Edward kept his eyes down, expression somewhat defiant. "_Please, _Brother." Al took a step closer, noticing not for the first time how much taller Edward had grown, and hugged the blond, feeling the older boy slowly hug him back. "I need you, and you know that. _Winry _needs you. All of our friends here need you. You can't just...give up because you had to do something you wouldn't normally do. It's fine. I--"

"Us," Edward said suddenly, cutting the brunet off.

"What?"

"They need _us," _his voice was quiet, "and I need you, Al. I'm not so selfless a person to give up something I need. Nothing's going to happen to me, I promise." His award-winning smile put Al to ease (a little), and he muttered, "I am tired, though."

"Then sleep, I promised General I'd make sure you got some rest," Al said matter-of-factly, as Edward finally opened the door.

"EH?!"

"Oh, just _go."_

**Jeezums. Like, months, right? I don't mind if you hated it, I kind of hated it, too. Please refrain from flaming...**


	7. Part 7

**I'm sorry this took so long. I had Writer's Block on a lot of my stories. My last update was an epilogue; whooo...! Anyway, if I were you, I'd be sick and fecking tired of waiting for these random and unreliable updates. So, if you're reading this, thanks a bunch for not being as impatient and hot-tempered as myself. n**.**n**

**REMINDER!!1--This **_**isn't**_ **RoyEdo. As it says in the description, it's EdWin. Very light EdWin, but EdWin all the same. ...IT'S NOT INCEST EITHER! -sulks-**

"_**How strong must I become so no one gets hurt?"**_

_**--Indelible Sin (Kesenai Tsumi), Nana Kitade**_

_Part 7:_

_Stray_

"_Alphonse!" Edward lunged forward, dragging the brunet boy from the general's hold, holding him firmly at an arm's length and looking him up and down. "Are you alright?" he demanded, golden eyes ablaze. "They didn't do anything to you, right?"_

"_I'm fine, brother," Alphonse attempted to console the blond; it might have worked a bit had his voice not been so shaky. Ed pulled him close, arms tight around him. Mustang watched the boy's small shoulders shake with silent sobs as he pressed his face against his older brother's jacket. "It'll never happen again, Alphonse," Edward said quietly, strengthening his hold on him. "Never again." _

_And if Mustang hadn't known him, he would've been upset at Edward for making promises he might not always be able to keep; but he did know him, and thus knew better than to assume that Edward would allow Alphonse anywhere near harm if he had a say about it. That, and anyone who wasn't blind could see the pure raging emotion in those fiery liquid eyes; Mustang almost shuddered at the wrath in that unnatural gaze.  
_

"_Come on, you two," he said, stepping forward; Alphonse didn't look up at him, merely kept his gaze at his feet. Mustang made a note of that; when something happened to frighten him, he got quiet. A big difference from his brother, who wouldn't shut up under the same circumstances. It also didn't take a genius to see that while both boys could separately fend for themselves quite nicely, they depended heavily on one another. Mustang had seen strong relationships fray and snap under the conditions of the 'camp'. _

_Edward turned, his arm protectively around the silent Alphonse. He stared at the black-haired man attempting to lead them away before they caused too much of a scene, and started away, matching his brother's pace evenly, as they made their way back to their beds._

_Later on, Mustang entered their territory, the section of the rundown barn house they'd claimed; they were quite the resourceful little demons, having snuck around and gathered things no one person would miss, and setting it up to make suitable but nowhere near homey living arrangements; it was like this was one big camping trip they'd been unprepared for--only, today, they'd had an encounter with the bear._

_Most of the people who shared that particular building with them were passed out, or too sick to care much what the soldier was doing. It was little wonder that Edward and Alphonse hadn't caught some disease floating around. After a few moments, he made a slight movement of his head and exited again. He rightly assumed that Edward would know to wait some time before following him out; it'd be too suspicious otherwise._

_Ten minutes later, Edward trotted out with Alphonse in tow. Mustang had once questioned if they were worried their things might be stolen. "Nah," he'd said, and that was the end._

"_Watcha got for us this time, General?" the blond asked with only half the enthusiasm he normally greeted food with. _

"_Bread and cheese," the man replied, holding out the napkin he'd wrapped the food in. Alphonse reached out to accept the burden, holding it in both hands; either he was very tired, very hungry, or simply weakened, because he seemed to have trouble holding it. Edward reached over and took it out of his hands, masking the concerned gesture by untying the knot with a flourish to see what the cloth held. "Looks great," he said, with more genuine feeling. "Hey, Al, go eat some of it, 'kay? I'm gonna have a little chat with our friend here."_

"_Don't go causing problems, brother," Alphonse warned him; Edward made a "Who, me?" face at him, and he rolled his eyes and left. Mustang wasn't thrilled to have been left alone with Edward, who wanted to have a "little chat" with him. He quickly cataloged any pains he had so he'd be sure which ones would be Edward's doing in a moment. One might think that the Elric brothers would be overly grateful to the soldier for bringing them food; at least, that was what Mustang had thought the first time. But no; they had an air about them that left no doubt in his mind that they would have found a way to procure provisions. _

"_I wanted to thank you," Edward said suddenly. Mustang blinked._

_"For the food?" the man asked, quite confused. He'd brought the Elrics food from day one--why would Edward randomly thank him now?_

_"No, you idiot!" Edward snapped, then scowled, glancing away. "Well...yeah. Well, not just that. For everything."_

_Mustang decided to wait for Edward to make his point. Since he'd met him, Roy had never known Edward to speak without reason while unprovoked. The blond didn't like to be prompted, and would talk when he was ready; but he always needed to have someone's attention. The soldier had learned this as well; the boy had to be sure that whoever he was talking to was really listening. Mustang soon realized that pretending to be thinking of other things, even though it was obviously a ruse, simply wouldn't sit with the golden-eyed youth. He demanded full attention, and the gesture actually seemed to be an unconscious one. Mustang was sure that it was more than an egotistical desire. Edward loved to play the heartless aristocrat, but it was all for show._

_"...You saved Al," he said finally, and it all clicked._

I'm an idiot, _Mustang thought wryly, amazed at how he hadn't thought of the cause of the boy's discomfort before. He'd saved Alphonse; never mind the fact that Edward was ready to rush in and do the same thing--it had been he, Roy, who'd actually done the deed. He wasn't really surprised that even the thankless Edward Elric would show gratitude at this, but was a bit when he actually came out and said "thank you"._

_"You'd have done the same thing if I hadn't stopped you," Mustang reminded him. _

_"I know," came the unhesitant reply, "but I didn't." There was so much more said in those simple words; a slight trace of self-loathing crept into his guardedly simple tone, and he turned. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to say." And the boy was gone._

_And for some reason, Mustang felt that the conversation had been left unfinished, with neither party willing to complete it. _

_---_

_"What did you two talk about, brother?"_

_And when Edward opened his mouth, he was fully prepared to lie and say they'd talked about something of irrelevance. But then he changed his mind last second and muttered, "I just wanted to thank him for saving you, is all."_

_Alphonse didn't say anything for a moment; only stared at his equally silent brother for a long moment. And when the golden gaze shifted downward, Alphonse smiled and shifted closer, laying his head on his brother's shoulder. Without any hesitation, Edward shifted back, allowing his kin to settle comfortably, resting his own blond locks over his brother's brunet ones, eyes sliding half shut in a relaxed expression of contentment. _

_Even in an alien world, where good fortune seemed to have turned its back on the world, and hunger, strife and misery began to favor it...Even then, he could somehow feel safe. His brother's body was warm against his, a constant and welcome reminder of his solid presence._

_He'd promised him over and over again; "I'm never going to leave you again."_

_And it was in times such as these that he really appreciated the truth in those words._

---

"I'm hungry," he mumbled, chin on the table, arms dangling at either side. "When's breakfast, Al?"

"You missed breakfast, brother," Al said lightly, playing with an eraser Mr. Blay hadn't been smart enough to remove from the table. "You slept in, remember?"

"Goddammit," came his reply, and that was the end of that specific conversation.

"Please, both of you, try to concentrate," Mr. Blay pleaded, nearly at his wit's end.

Edward mumbled something agreeable, and their interrogator gratefully turned the tape recorder back on.

"Let's start where we left off," he said, raising his notepad and pencil. "Al was just--"

"Yeah," Edward interrupted too sharply. He made up for it with a grin. "We got it."

The eraser slipped from Alphonse's fingers, and he sadly watched it bounce away.

---

_"Go to hell," Edward snarled at the man, eyes flashing dangerously. _

_"Whose going to make me?" the offending person snapped back, slightly put off by the feral expression in the liquid gaze. _

_"Well, that's a stupid question." Edward flew forward, drawing back his fist. The man (all bark and no bite) could only bring his arms up over his head and pray for divine intervention. It came in the form of furious kin._

_"Wait, brother!" Alphonse ran between them, and Edward's hand immediately slackened. The brunet boy stared hard at him. "Beating him up isn't going to do anyone good," he reasoned quietly so only Edward could hear, stormy blue eyes unwavering. "You'll only get yourself in trouble."_

_The blond said nothing, staring intently at the man who'd hit his little brother. "If you _ever _touch him again, you'll be signing your own certificate of death," Edward promised him, voice cold and vengeful. "I swear to whatever God that cares, I will kill you."_

_"Come _on, _brother," Alphonse tugged on his arm. "You've made your point." He grinned sheepishly at everyone who'd gathered to witness a fight. "Sorry," he mumbled, towing a fuming blond away._

_When they were back in their alcove, Edward was suddenly facing the wrath of Alphonse Elric; had they been capable of alchemy, Edward was sure he would've felt pain. "What was that?!" the boy hissed, dark eyes furious. "Just cause some random guy hits me, you blow up! Brother, I'm not a porcelain doll! I'm flesh and blood, I'm not going to break so easily!" When Edward flinched, Alphonse paused, and then understood. He sighed, temper softening, and sat down. "When I was in that armor," he said quietly, "I couldn't often fight because I wasn't sure of my own strength; I knew I was strong, but I was always scared I would crush something on accident. I never really had to explain that to you--you just took over, handling everything you could manage on your own. I could only help with the big things; none of the smaller, trivial labors. Looking back on it, those were probably the hardest, right?" He rubbed his forehead. "I'm not asking you to stop looking out for me; I appreciate that, really. I just...don't want you to threaten people at the same time." _

_"But that's half the fun," Edward mused thoughtfully, and Al threw a shoe at him._

_---_

"Yeah, brother was a hothead," Al said, reminiscing.

"Shut the hell up," Edward mumbled, red coat over him like a blanket, concealing his face from view, making his voice muffled. "I'm hungry."

"So I've heard," Mr. Blay said, resignedly gathering his things. "Alright, we're done for the day."

"HUZZAH!" Edward shot up at once, pulling his coat on. "C'mon, Al, food!"

"There's always something between the lines," the interrogator muttered thoughtfully when they had gone, scribbling something down in his notes. "Always something they just won't say..."

---

Edward turned in the direction opposite the mess hall, heading down the wrong hallway. Alphonse blinked, but knew better than to question him until they reached their room. He was about to when Edward closed the door behind them, but stopped when he saw his golden-haired kin set to gathering up all their few possessions and stowing them away in a small suitcase.

"B...Brother?" he finally muttered, tilting his head to one side. "What are you doing?"

"We're finally back, Al," came his response, "and I want to see Risembool." The eyes that lifted to meet his were liquid gold, excited and hopeful. "You want to too, right? Winry'll come, and we can have some of Granny's good home cooking!"

There was more fueling his random desire to escape HQ than Pinako's stew; but Alphonse had been feeling the same confined, suffocating emotion he was sure Edward was. Pinako had left before, because someone needed to run the shop; Winry had stayed, because she'd never abandon her boys when they needed her. Al had a feeling that it wouldn't be too hard to convince her they wanted to escape to their peaceful, sleepy little town, and get away from the questioning.

If they had to ham it up a little bit, they weren't above that.

"Okay, brother," Alphonse nodded with a smile. "Let's go.

**OMFG! AN UPDATE! IT'S BEEN MONTHS! WUAAHHHH!! o.o Please don't flame--you might make Roy sad. BUT REVIEWS FEED HUNGRY LITTLE ALCHEMISTS! DON'T LET THEM STARVE!**

**I know it was short, and I'm sorry...;-; I'm doing the best I can, here...**


	8. Part 8

**You all must hate me a lot. ;-; Not that I don't deserve it...But, anyway, here's the next chapter! -edges out-**

**I feel the need to stress something here:**

**THE ONLY PAIRING IN THIS STORY IS EDWIN. NOTHING ELSE. IT **_WILL NOT BE _**ROYxED, EDxAL, HUGHESxED, ETC. Thank you.**

**-** **Someone should really tell me how it is I do that, before I spaz. Each time it happens, it's an accident. Why?!**

_Part 8:_

_Untold Stories_

_As a police officer, I got around; and since I was well-liked and respected by most, I got all of the latest gossip whether I liked it or not. It was a nice break from thinking about politics; so many different stories, all the focus of attention for a few relaxed moments--but this morning, people were only talking about one thing: There was a stranger roaming around town._

_"What?" I asked, surprised, when I heard the news. "Why didn't anyone report him?"_

_"Oh, no!" The baker's wife shook her head, looking stricken. "He's not caused any trouble or such of the like! He's Alfonse Heiderich's new roommate. He got a job with Alfonse's father, working on those rockets of theirs."_

_I relaxed with a sigh. "I see," I said, making it clear with my tone that I didn't have complete faith in the solidity of the information. _

_"Oh, I've heard he's an adorable lad," the woman continued. "My friend Betty saw him; she said she hasn't seen such a face in years."_

_"I'll take your word for it," I said, grinning. "Maybe I'll catch him around?"_

_"He sticks close to Alfonse," she said, bringing a fresh batch of buttery loaves out of the oven. "You'll probably see them on their way home from the warehouse."_

_After my goodbye, I shoved my hands in my pockets and set to my usual rounds. Everywhere I stopped, I heard more talk of the new boy in town. It was a little annoying, but also one of those things that would eat away at the mind when left unattended. So, I resolved to ask Alfonse about him; couldn't hurt anything, right?_

_I strode down the street; it was early morning so, besides my informants. almost no one was out. I brought a hand up to cover a yawn, and ran headlong into someone. I stumbled back, startled, then after a moment reached out a hand to help the boy, who'd fallen over backwards, up. "Sorry, kid," I said ruefully, when the boy dusted off his white gloves; then I realized that I'd never seen him before._

_"Um, it's no problem," the boy muttered quickly, head at an angle so his golden-blond hair hid his face. He turned away and made to walk off._

_"Oh, hang on a sec--" I reached out and grabbed the thin shoulder. The blond stopped and turned, hitting me with a smoldering, liquid gold gaze. _

_"L...Lieutenant Hughes..." The stranger's eyes widened. "Wha...How did you..." Startlingly, those golden eyes were close to what could only be tears, but he seemed more startled and confused than upset. _

_"Hey, kid...Are you alright?" I was out of his league when kids started crying. Gracia, my girlfriend, always said I'd make a good father, but for some reason I just didn't quite see that attribute in myself. _

_And something clicked in that unnatural gaze; the boy's face melted into an enigmatic mask before my very eyes. "...Oh. Of course," he muttered softly. "I...I'm sorry, I had you confused with someone."_

_Then how did you know my name? I wondered to myself, eyes narrowed a bit in thought. I might've questioned the boy then, had it not been for the sudden call of "Edward!" from behind us. _

_I turned to see Alfonse Heiderich racing towards us, breathing heavily. "Edward, I was looking everywhere for you," the blond said accusingly, blue eyes concerned and reprimanding at the same time. _

_"Don't tell me you ran all the way here from the warehouse," the stranger--presumably Edward--replied, taking a single step forward and reaching out with his left hand. "I'm sorry I--"_

_"I knew you would be," Alfonse said dismissively, "but I want to know why you did." And the way the normally soft-spoken and polite boy stood, arms akimbo, expression unallowing of any argument and demanding answer, made me raise his eyebrows. I stayed silent, watching the exchange carefully. I noted the way Edward's left hand crept up to his right shoulder, how his right arm seemed to hang limply in its socket. I watched the fathomless gaze turn a bit calculative, and knew that Edward was considering, somehow, what it would be safe to say in the current situation. _

_And then, looking respectively meek and apologetic, he said finally, "I thought I saw a spider."_

_There was a slight pause; I blinked. Then Alfonse snorted. "Liar."_

_"Aww, your words hurt," came the reply, and an award-winning smile that kept his eyes bright; and still, that hint of mirth was there, the teasing light in that gaze that felt familiar to me somehow... "Anyway, let's--"_

_"What's wrong with your arm?" came the next interruption. _

_"Ah, it dislocated again," he said, tapping it; it swayed back and forth. "I keep telling you, this arm's a piece of crap."_

_"You're expectations are set too high," Alfonse retorted, then sighed, and glanced over at me. He looked vaguely surprised to see me standing there. "Oh! Sorry, Officer--I haven't introduced you yet," he said, smiling. "This is Edward, Edward Elric. Edward, this is Officer Maes Hughes."_

_"Hello, Officer Hughes," he said, nodding to me like it was our first meeting and he hadn't been reduced almost to tears at the sigh of me only moments ago. He held out his left hand. _

_I smiled, reaching out with my own left hand to shake the one offered. "Nice to meet you, Ed," I said evenly, meaning it. And when Edward pulled his own hand away, I continued, "I'd like to talk to you again sometime."_

_I noticed how Edward froze; those golden eyes were scouring my own, now--but Edward nodded wordlessly, and turned away. Alfonse reached forward, slinging Edward's limp right arm around his shoulders to brace him. "We're gonna head home," the blue-eyed mechanic said apologetically. _

_"That's no problem," I said with a jaunty salute. "Working all night on those rockets of yours, you must be pretty tired."_

_"Yes, sir," Alfonse grinned, "we're nearly there." And then the two boys left, Alfonse helping Edward to walk without his right arm (whatever was the matter with it) dragging his right shoulder down, though Edward didn't seem to really need assistance. _

_Interesting kid, I thought, watching them go. I wonder what he's not saying--but still, he has that starving look on his face. Like he's desperate for something he know he won't get. "Hehe, here I go, being poetic," I chuckled, continuing on my way._

_--_

_"Alfonse," I called from across the room, "over here." I'd asked Alfonse to meet me at the beer hall for a late lunch. Even then, the mechanic still looked tired and a little ruffled when he wandered in; I felt a little guilty at that, and resolved to keep our meeting brief so the boy could go back to bed. _

_What I did not expect was for Edward to be with Alfonse; I'd told Alfonse I wanted to talk to him about Edward, and it didn't seem tactful for Alfonse to have brought the golden-eyed youth along. Alfonse saw the bewildered expression on my face, and scowled at me. I blinked; since when did Alfonse scowl? And then I saw Alfonse turn to Edward with a gentle expression and say something to him, motioning to the door. Edward looked a little lost, but nodded and ambled away slowly._

_Then Alfonse was in front of me, staring down at me and making no move to sit. "I'm sorry, sir, but can we make this quick?" his polite tone was icy. "Ed's waiting for me."_

_Regathering my thoughts quickly, I said, "Why did you bring him along?"_

_Alfonse opened his mouth hotly, then paused. After a moment, he collapsed into the chair across from me and sighed. "Something's wrong with him. I don't mean he's crazy or anything, just...He's been clingy to me ever since we met. He seemed to know me somehow; he knew my name, but was shocked that I had a father. It took him a few moments to wrap his mind around it," Alfonse said quietly. "And he's always doing rash things for me; a few weeks ago, our platform wasn't stable, and when we were testing fuel, the rocket shot out of control. It was headed for me, but Ed shoved me out of the way and then turned to take the hit to his right arm." There was an odd expression on Alfonse's face; he combed a hand through his hair. "I yelled at him that he was stupid, that he could've gotten hurt, but he just laughed it off and showed us that his right arm was fake, made of metal. He told us that he was never in any danger, and that we shouldn't worry. Then later that night, he'd had to replace that arm and bandage his ribs, where pieces of broken metal had pierced his skin." Alfonse glanced at me helplessly. "He never asks for anything, but always seems ready to give up anything for me. I don't know why, and it's making me nervous; I mean, what if he goes too far? Like, what if I'm about to be hit by a truck, and he shoves me out of the way like he did with the rocket?"_

_"Calm down, Al," I said, visibly concerned. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing; he seems pretty capable, though I haven't really talked to him..." Then, another though occurring to me, I continued, "He knew my name, too, though he called me "Lieutenant"."_

_"He does that all the time!" Alfonse looked mystified. "He'll stop dead at the sight of someone on the street, and go pale, or whisper something under his breath. It's happening less frequently now...Like he's getting used to it, whatever it is." Alfonse shook his head. "But every time he looks at me, he smiles. A really small smile, and not a happy one. More of a..." He made a face. "More helpless than happy."_

_"And his arm?" I was growing more and more curious. "You said he had to replace it--"_

_"It's authentic," Alfonse sighed, standing. "All he'll say is that he made a big mistake when he was younger, and he's still paying the price. Anyway, I should get going."_

_'Ed's waiting for me.'_

_"Right," I stood as well, shaking the young man's hand. "Although, I hope you don't mind my asking, do you think I might talk to Edward one-on-one sometime?" Alfonse looked at me warily, then at the door outside of which Edward was waiting for him. His eyes, in that single glance, turned from defensive to protective. When they turned back to me, they were cautious. _

_"Maybe. I'll ask him." Then he nodded and made his way around the tables and out the door. I caught a glimpse of golden-blond hair and relieved topaz eyes before the door swung shut again._

_--_

_My chance to talk to Edward did not come until a few days after my initial discussion with Alfonse. I couldn't get that haunted expression, those sorrowful eyes, out of my head for some reason. So when I, while patrolling, happened to glance over and find Edward wandered aimlessly down the street, I did not ponder how convenient a coincidence it was, and instead trotted over to him. "Hey, Ed," I said cheerfully, aiming to be disarming; Ed glanced at me, startled, and I knew I must've interrupted a complex train of thought._

_His very gaze was enough to make me somehow appreciate all I had in life; those hurt and starved eyes met my own and held them. And then the blond sighed, and turned to face me. "I'm in no mood for any bullshit, got it?" he drawled, voice and body language giving clear signs that this was not the first time he'd dealt with authorities, that he'd not had any trouble talking them down in the past and didn't expect to this time around either. "I'm tired, I want to go to bed, and I'm sick of being stared at and whispered about and avoided. It gets old fast. I don't feel like answering any of your goddamn questions, because although you're an officer and I in any other case would have to oblige to whatever you felt necessary, this is for nothing more than your own personal peace of mind, as I've done nothing to disturb the peace of the town; since you're not acting on your badge, only on curiosity, I have every right to simply walk away right now and ignore you. Now, if I rob a bank, I can assure you, I'll cooperate, because a cop's job's already hard enough without me being block-headed about it. But since you find me to be an enigma that needs solving, I'm gonna have to bid you adieu." He continued walking, straight past me, raising his right hand in a careless wave._

_It was the first time anyone had ever talked me down in such blatant disrespect, especially while I was in uniform. I spun, bewildered. The blond seemed small, walking away; his frame was loose, shoulders slumped slightly. I realized with a start that this was normally the time that the mechanics quit work for the day and went to bed to get some well-earned rest. Frowning, and in no way deterred, I trotted after Edward, trying to adopt a similar gate. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" I realized the blond was walking with his eyes shut. _

_He opened one golden eye at me, and grinned sidelong. "Wow, anyone else would've been shitting themselves," he chuckled, not stopping walking. "Although, it's to be expected..." He caught himself, biting down hard on his bottom lip hard enough to make me wince. _

_"Aren't you tired?"_

_"You get used to it after a few years." He was casual, not trying for attention, eyes closed and head angled downward. Almost as if he was sleepwalking. Or praying. I felt a pang at the thought of a boy his age working long enough hours not to be swayed by fatigue. _

_A few years?_

_"So, how's Munich treating you?" I asked to make conversation. _

_"No better than any other city I've visited." He pondered for a moment. "But, in all fairness, no worse either." He grinned. "And Alfonse is here, at least."_

_"About Al," I asked, looking thoughtful. "Why are you so attached to him? I mean, you've never known him before you met him here, right?" I thought Edward would appreciate straightforward questions; to my relief, he seemed to be considering an answer. _

_"He reminds me..." Edward shook his head. "If my little brother had grown up," he said quietly, "he'd look a lot like Alfonse."_

_I couldn't fathom the silent agony in those smoldering golden eyes. I asked quietly, "What was his name?"_

_Edward chuckled, glancing skyward. "Alphonse."_

_Wow. "That...That's gotta be hard," I managed to get out. Not only did Alfonse look like Edward's apparently deceased little brother, but he also shared the same name? How could Edward bear to look at him? _

_As if sensing his unspoken question, Edward said, "It's easier when I'm with Alfonse. When he laughs, it's like it's Al laughing. It makes me feel better than it would to be completely alone." He gave me a look that said something along the lines of "if you wouldn't know _that _much, you're hopeless," and I had to smile. _

_After that, our conversations were more friendly than formal; I came to realize that Edward wasn't a shy, broken boy--he was loud-mouthed, hot-headed and stubborn. He was determined to see something through once he set his mind to it, and no amount of begging, bribing or pleading would change it. He got strangely quiet around some people, would glare at others for no reason (but only when their backs were turned), and had to quickly glance away from still more. But as days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years, Edward slowly lost that particular oddity. He never opened up--to anyone--but on calm days or quiet moments, when everyone was content to just sit down together, he would tell dazzling stories of daring adventure--stories of alchemists and demons, stories of monsters that seemed almost human, and humans that seemed not to have a soul about them. He told us stories of his life as the FullMetal Alchemist, his brother at his side. He told us about his mechanic--about Risembool. _

_Not all at once, but his audience listened with rapt attention to his each individual tale, and spun it in with the rest in their mind. They credited him to be a great storyteller, and he would scowl--he'd long since stopped trying to argue. _

_But I was amazed at how all of his stories tied in together; all pieces of a bigger puzzle, like Edward had dumped a jigsaw out of its box and scooped up most of the pieces, leaving me with only the edges, the frame of an intricate picture--of what, I had no idea._

_--_

_Alfonse saw me approach quickly and grinned, flapping a hand to ease my concern. Edward lay in the grass on his back, sound asleep; it was his completely vulnerable state that had me worried--Edward had never, ever let himself off-guard in all the years I'd known him. And yet there he was, breathing deeply, sleeping soundly, face relaxed and at peace. The wind toyed with his long blond hair, and occasionally he would mumble and roll over, grinning in his dreams._

_  
He must've been so tired._

_I sat on the bench with Alfonse, content to watch him. "I wonder what he's dreaming of," I murmured. _

_Al smiled. "I'm sure he's dreaming of his brother."_

_"It must've been fun." I surprised myself by saying; I sounded wistful--not because I had any desire to spend my days running amok with Al and Winry, but because I wished with all my heart that Edward could. The kid deserved it; even if those people and that world were all something he'd fabricated--although it seemed to intricate for any of that, and he had no qualms about sharing his stories with anyone--he deserved to be there. _

_Edward shifted suddenly in his sleep, a frown overtaking the initial gentle expression. Alfonse and I shared a sidelong glance. The blond twisted around to his other side, forming a loose fist in the grass. "N...No..." he muttered quietly. "Colonel, Al...! Get Al--! Al, no, don't--!" His expression was suddenly terrified, and he was breathing heavily. I stood, but Alfonse, looking grim, shook his head. _

_"Don't try to wake him," the blond said softly. He attempted a smile. "He's got a killer right hook." I took that to mean I'd probably end up bruised, and scowled, wanting nothing more than to rouse Edward from his nightmare._

_"Is he dreaming of Al's..." I couldn't finish; I saw Alfonse's mouth tighten, and knew he was thinking the same thing. Was he there when his brother died? I asked myself, biting my lower lip. Edward never mentioned what happened to his arm and leg, or what happened to his little brother. _

_'I made a big mistake when I was younger, and I'm still paying the price.'_

_And then Edward shot up right, arm stretched out in front of him, horror written across his gaze. "ALPHONSE!"_

_Neither Alfonse nor I could meet his unnatural gaze; I don't know about Alfonse, but I don't think I could take seeing the barely-hidden emptiness, that heart-breaking sense of loss that I knew would ride his gaze._

_--_

_Edward seemed quite taken with the gypsy girl. He'd look at her and his eyes would soften; I could tell at once, as could anyone, that his affection for her was nothing more than that of an old friend's--which made it odd. He'd not known her for long. _

_But he was so protective of her; each time I spoke a word out against Roma in general, his eyes would flash and narrow and he'd leave. I knew he was enraged--truly enraged--when he said nothing at all, and just removed himself from my presence. _

_--_

_I saw the raw shock on the boy's face; I felt a pang somewhere inside me, knowing I'd taken advantage of the trust he'd given me. The betrayal on his face cut me; and when that car came flying through the wall, Edward ran to it immediately. I'd never seen the man before, and yet Edward trusted him more than he trusted me, which hurt after how long he'd known me; he rushed forward, ducking lithely around the men with that feline grace of his, and when he made it to the car, as the car backed up, he sent me a glare I was sure would haunt me for the rest of my life._

_--_

_Noah sat hunched over on the ground, holding Alfonse in her lap. She cradled his head in her arms, and when she glanced up at me there was such sadness in her gaze. Her dress was covered in the young mechanic's blood, but she continued to gently stroke his hair. _

_Alfonse was dead. _

_And then--quite suddenly--as men gathered around me, shouting and jostling--a blazing purple fire spread out above us and a dented metal ship flew from it to land with a loud, resounding crash. I noticed Noah curl protectively around Alfonse's corpse; how, other than that, she made no move to go anywhere. _

_When that monster came out of the ship, I felt myself go numb with fear; what the hell was that thing? It gazed around at us, before it turned towards Noah. Her eyes widened in fear and she tightened her arms around Alfonse, as though he might save her._

_'She's just a little girl, Maes. Can't you protect her?'_

_I fired my rounds; the monster turned to look at me, then fell. The black ooze retreated from around the body of Eckhart; I can't say I was mortified I'd shot her. More like grimly satisfied...In the next moment, there was a muffled crash, and Edward emerged from the ship, coated in a fine layer of dust. He walked unsteadily, reaching out to brace himself against the door frame. He had his head bowed slightly, so I couldn't properly see his expression._

_I knew him well enough to know that this could only mean bad news; he normally walked with his head held high, golden eyes quick and bright. Now all I could see of those eyes was a cold, empty defeat. When he raised his head to look at us, he seemed to flinch. Noah was the first to react. "Edward!" she breathed softly. _

_"That's right," he said after a moment's silence, attempting a smile that wrenched at me. "All this and you're still not rid of me. Disappointed?"_

_She was unfazed by his obvious attempt to shy away from the subject. She shifted, lying Alfonse tenderly on the ground, before standing. I couldn't help but notice the horror that made Edward's eyes three shades darker when he saw Alfonse dead, his blood covering his shirt and Noah's front. "But why, Edward? Why did you come back?"_

_From where, I wanted desperately to ask, but knew this was not my place. Edward looked at her for a moment, before smiling that not-smile and whispering, "Well...it's kind of hard to explain..."_

_"He came to destroy the gate!" another voice chirped, ringing slightly metallic. My men and I jumped; I looked to Edward to see if he'd caught where it came from. Sure enough, he and Noah were staring at a suit of armor resting comfortably against the ship. _

_Edward's expression was confused; then it eased into a smile. "Ahh, so you transferred your soul again, huh, Al?" He knelt beside it, talking to it softly. "How long till you fade out this time?" I noticed at once his use of "Al." He had never, _ever _called Alfonse "Al." I was desperately confused; could he be talking to his little brother? His little brother's soul, to be more exact? But _how?

_And then the helmet of the suit fell off. I blinked. I saw Edward react a bit like a cat, almost drawing away instinctively from the noise. And then a brunette head thrust itself from the helm and grinned wickedly at Edward, who leapt to his feet with a cry of, "Al!!"_

_Al._

_"Wh...What are you doing here?" he asked weakly. I noticed the way his golden eyes softened immeasurably at the sight of the young brunette. The way he immediately dropped his guard, the way he adopted an earnest expression almost at once as "Al" stated his reply, climbing out of his hiding place. What Edward said next surprised me. His eyes hardened a bit and he whispered jerkily, "You can never go back, Al. You realize that."_

_And the boy, standing above him, gazed down at him with a measure of trust and adoration I'd never witnessed before. "I want to be at your side, brother," he said softly, "I want to learn the things you learn, and grow up with you."_

_Edward stared at him for a long moment, and the world stood still. Then he smiled, jerking his shoulders up in a shrug and muttered, "Equivalent Exchange."_

_--_

_That night, Edward was the happiest I'd ever seen him. People kept crowding around him and Al, asking thousands of questions, demanding answers. Edward positioned himself in front of his little brother, and gave everyone a warning glare to back up at least three steps. Al, for his part, watching the proceedings curiously, hands on either of his brother's shoulders, peering out from behind him._

_It was disgustingly cute. _

_When everyone cleared off, as I was coming inside from seeing the last of them off, Gracia hushed me furiously before I could even open my mouth. She gripped my arm and led me into the sitting room; Edward was sitting on one end of the couch, slightly curled to one side, and his brother was stretched across the length of it, head rested in Edward's lap. They were both sleeping soundly, the contented, dreamless sleep of the weary, triumphant traveler. _

_Noah was standing over them, covering them gently with a blanket. She had a soft smile on her lips, her brown eyes were very gentle. I felt Gracia take my hand, and at once, I felt that somehow, by knowing these people, I had gained something extraordinary._

**Okay, see, I've been wanting to do this for awhile now. FLAMES SHALL BE EATEN!!**


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